


Still

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Dom Hux, sub Kylo [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:04:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo doesn't know how to sit still.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still

Trips on a shuttle with the General are few and far between. Hux _does_ travel off-base and off-Star Destroyer, but much less frequently than Kylo does. And, too, they don’t often travel together. Either their duties don’t align, or Hux has some speech about how they’re risking the Order if the pair of them are taken out together.

Kylo would be dead, then, so he doesn’t much care what happens to the Order after that. Hux does, though. He begrudgingly has to bow to that (like so many things).

So today is unusual. 

It’s one of the smaller ships, based on the old Lamda-designations, not his personal Command Upsilon. Hux summoned him. Kylo came. That was just the way it was. 

He sits in the main compartment out back. There’s a pilot and a co-pilot, and that’s all. Kylo swings his legs over the side of the bench by tilting them really far back and bending his ankles so he can do it. His feet actually lie flush to the floor, comfortably so, with his knees lightly bent up from the bench if he sits properly, but sometimes he likes to think he’s not as tall as he is, now.

Hux comes back into the compartment and perches beside him on the bench.

He does not need to. There is space on either side of Kylo for four people to sit comfortably, and then there’s the bench facing him. There’s zero need for Hux to be this close, but Kylo has long since given up understanding the Enigma That Is General Hux.

The other man flicks open his datapad with one hand, efficient gestures through streams of information. Kylo tilts his head to see (mostly for something to put his eyes on) and Hux clucks at him in frustration.

Fine. Fine. It’s not like he’d do anything with any information. Nothing should be classified above his level of clearance. Kylo finds his saber-hilt next, sliding his gloved hands over the pommel, down to the cross-blade, over the exposed bumps and ridges and—

“Do you ever sit still and behave?”

“No.” Best to be honest.

“You will, now.”

 _Oh, will I?_ The challenge rises in his throat at once, and is about to escape when... oh. Hux’s other hand goes flat-palmed over Kylo’s belt. It slides down, down, grazing his belly through the fabric... fingers and thumb feeling for the heft of him low between his parted legs.

Kylo can’t help it. He spreads at once, obedient and _wanting_ , and he knows the ragged breathing in his helmet will translate into the outside world. And then he remembers that _they are not alone_.

There’s two troopers, right up there. Who might walk in at any moment. Who might see the General pawing a gloved hand over his bulging lap. Who might see him rocking his hips back and forth, silently begging for oh so much more.

(Yes, he could wipe them. He could also keep them from walking in on them, but that’s not the _point_.)

“Better,” Hux says. “Are you going to behave nicely for the rest of the journey?”

“...yes?” But does that mean he’ll have to wait?

Hux pinches him so hard that the sting makes his feet flail, and it’s only by sucking in air that he doesn’t scream in agony.

“What was that?”

“Yes, Sir! Yes, Sir! I will. I promise.”

Fuck. Even the shocking agony isn’t enough to harsh his arousal down, and if anything, he’s harder still. All the blood thunders between his thighs, and he doesn’t know how to convince Hux to keep touching him, right here, right now. Beg? Get onto his knees and suck him off? Bend over, lift his robes, and beg to be buggered right then and there?

He’d do any of those things.

Instead, it turns out he just needs to sit relatively still and quiet as fingers methodically fold back the flaps of his thick, black robes. As the belt to his pants is undone, all while Hux one-handedly works. The man doesn’t even look down, and somehow that disregard is disgustingly hot on its own: he’s an afterthought, an also-do on the man’s list. He doesn’t even warrant full attention, and he’s only being seen to in order to stop him fidgeting.

He should not get off on that as hard as he is, right now. Fuck.

His cock doesn’t get the memo, springing proudly out as if to say ‘ta-dah!’ when Hux works his clothes away enough. A single, red, fleshy salute from a sea of night, and it all but vanishes from view behind Hux’s own glove.

Camouflage. He almost giggles. Instead he bites down on his lip to keep in the unmanly whimper, his spine tingling and a sticky, awkward heat starting in his cheekbones and pounding through him to his shoulders. In his heart. In his balls. Everything thrums in time with the ship, in time with the tugs from root to tip, twisting and easing and tightening, just how he needs. 

Precise. Clinical. Detached. Kylo wants to claw, wants to scratch, wants to do something to shatter that pristine front. Wants the rabid, lust-mad and furious lover he gets in private. The man who grabs fistfuls of his hair to bend him like a bowcaster as he rides his ass to oblivion. Who splatters his white seed all over his mouth and throat like pearls for his beloved whore. Who sweats, and swears, and shows Kylo that the outward appearance says _nothing_ about a man’s inner strength and depravity.

But right now he has the other Hux. Work Hux. The Hux who can step into a holo-call moments after fucking him senseless, hair impeccable, and tell everyone what they have to do. The Hux who doesn’t crack up when Kylo’s lips engulf him under the desk. Who is In Control at all times (even of him).

 _That_ Hux is jerking him off like it’s a duty, and – fuck – fuck, but he’s so broken into shape for him that even **that** is a blessing and a boon and Kylo knows he’s lucky for every last shred of attention he gets. He grunts, letting Hux know he’s close... and the grip changes, catching most of the spurts as his cock gives up at last.

Oh. Oh, but that was good. Not nearly enough to satisfy him for the day, but enough to take the edge off for long enough to get back to the _Finalizer_. He’ll repay it with his mouth the minute he’s allowed, but he’ll still beg to be fucked before bed. It helps him sleep, helps them both sleep. 

The glove comes up to his mouth, and Kylo obediently laps it clean, tasting leather below his own frustration. 

“Thank you, Sir.”

“See that you behave the rest of the journey.” Blue eyes glint over to him. “And I’ll reward you accordingly.”

Oh, yes. Kylo is going to get fucked _so damn hard_. He just has to be a really, really good boy. With the right motivation, it’s more than possible.


End file.
